


Love In Motion

by AnxiousCoffee (TheHallowedAngel)



Category: Chicago Fire
Genre: Caring Darren Ritter, Carsick, Established Relationship, M/M, Motion Sickness, Not Beta Read, Seasick, Sick Blake Gallo, Sickfic, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:33:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26287282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheHallowedAngel/pseuds/AnxiousCoffee
Summary: Gallo is a fool and Ritter loves him regardless.Or- Blake gets motion sick and Darren looks after him: The two part series.
Relationships: Darren Ritter/Blake Gallo
Comments: 9
Kudos: 23





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ChameleonCircuit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChameleonCircuit/gifts).



> You looked at the tags, so you know what you’re in for.

“I forgot to tell you,” Gallo began, leaning on the railing and looking out over the water, “I get motion sickness.”

“You do?”

Out of instinct, Darren put his hand on the arch of Blake’s back. He felt the muscles under his palm ease slightly, like Blake had been holding all of his tension there.

“Yeah, like crazy bad.” Blake spoke louder, trying to be heard over the roar of the water underneath them.

Darren just nodded. He couldn’t really think of anything helpful to say, but Blake offered a small smile as a thank you for the company.

The boat dipped to one side and Darren saw Blake clutch the railing tighter, tight enough to turn his knuckles white.

“Fuck,” Blake huffed, voice rough and breath uneven. He swallowed the gag rising up his throat.

“Do you wanna go inside? Maybe it’ll be easier in the cabin.”

Blake just shook his head.

Ritter frowned, and a deep crease formed between his brows. This cruise weekend was his idea. Blake hadn’t seemed hesitant, but maybe he’d just missed the signs? Or maybe Blake was better at masking his emotions than Darren thought.

Blake burped, a wet gurgling belch that almost sounded painful. He spat out a mouthful of saliva, struggling to get the thick strands to fall from his lips.

“What’s your number?” Ritter asked, starting to run circles on his back.

Blake hesitated, smiling momentarily before the water threw the boat around again and he grimaced.

“Fuck,” Blake said it again, throat working against a heave. His chest convulsed like he was hiccuping over and over, but instead of a hitched breath, his lips parted and a slurry of breakfast and dinner hit the taunting waves with a guttural retch. Thankfully, the wind was working to their advantage—Darren didn’t want to think about what would have happened if it wasn’t.

“You’re really not doing too great, are you?” Mirroring the movements of the hand he had on Blake’s spine, he put a hand against Blake’s stomach and started to knead gentle patterns into the flesh. Ritter almost flinched when he felt the next heave pull Blake’s stomach muscles tight.

Another flood of partially digested food sprayed into the ocean, accompanied by a groan and a cough. After that it was a lot of broken curses and choked gags, smaller and smaller amounts of acrid mess mixing with the water each time.

Eventually, Blake was just left panting, strings of puke clinging to his chin. His nose burnt, but his stomach seemed to be calming down.

With a slow, deep breath, Gallo pushed away from the safety rail and used his jacket sleeve to clean his face.

“I think I want to go inside now,” Blake muttered, sounding just as miserable as he looked.

“Yeah?” There was a laugh dripping from the words, and Blake stuck an elbow into Darren’s ribs.

“Yes,” was the indignant reply, and then an all-too-nonchalant, “I should probably take something for this.”

“Oh yeah, for sure. Don’t want to embarrass yourself now, do you?”


	2. Chapter 2

The drive was smooth enough. They were even running on time, by all accounts. Ritter was expecting to hit traffic before they breached the hour mark, but they were cruising down the highway no problem.

Well, there was  one problem.

Gallo had huddled himself right up into the corner of his chair, leaning most of his body weight against the closed, passenger side door. He’d been slowing losing steam since they’d turned on to the highway a half hour back. Now Blake was silent, one arm propped up on the door console with a hand hovering over his mouth.

“Why don’t you take something for it?” Darren asked, not looking away from the road. For a moment there was no answer, like Gallo was trying to figure out how to respond. He did eventually break the silence, though.

“Because I forgot them,” he said, moving the hand from in front of his face to be heard. “I forgot my anti-nausea pills.”

The corners of Darren’s mouth pulled down into a sympathetic grimace.

“What’s it at?”

Blake took a moment to think about it before he said, “About a six.”

“Do you want me to pull over?” Now Ritter looked over, slowing the car to avoid an accident while his attention was elsewhere. Blake had a sickly, grey undertone to his skin, and beads of sweat clung to his brow. His throat was working, jaw clenched tight. Blake nodded slowly, not waiting for the car to stop before unbuckling his belt.

They pulled into an empty lay-by, and Darren put the car into park just as Blake was opening his door.

With one hand braced on the dashboard, Gallo leant his upper body out of the car. He held the drawstrings of his hoodie out of the way with his other hand. Blake forced a heave, working with the building pressure in his throat. Nothing happened. He tried again, pulling his tongue away from the back of his mouth to trigger a gag, and this time a rush of sour fluid hit the dirt.

Darren knitted his brows together, reaching over to put a hand on the small of Blake’s back.

“Your gag reflex is too responsive, that could be a problem,” Ritter mused aloud, earning a small laugh from Blake.

“How do you know I did it on purpose?” Gallo asked in a rushed breath, clearing his throat.

Ritter laughed. “You said it was a six. In all the time I’ve known you, I’ve never seen you puke for less than a nine. So, you did it deliberately.”

“Touché.”

Coaxed by a gurgling heave, Blake’s whole body jolted forward. With a splatter, the majority of the rest of his stomach contents hit the ground. Blake coughed through it, then spitting over and over to try and detach the strings of puke hanging from his lips. Gallo’s nose burnt as he inhaled, and he choked on the sour air filling his lungs. Another splatter, and this time Ritter had to turn away to gag into his palm.

Darren wasn’t a sympathetic puker, never had been. But the sound of Blake throwing up was getting to his stomach.

Blake straightened up against the flat of Ritter’s hand, looking at him over his shoulder.

“You good?” Blake asked, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth; Darren laughed.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking  you  that?”

“I dunno, but I’m not the one about to puke on the centre console of my own car. You wanna trade places?” Spurred on by the gentle rumble of Darren’s laugh, Blake carried on.

“Seriously, I can give a real mean back-rub. Like- you know, if I wasn’t a firefighter I would get a job in a bar as a guy who rubs your back when you’re drunk-puking absinthe and cheap beer in the gross, first stall of the even grosser bathroom.”

Darren laughed harder, bending over into a giggling, wheezing ball. Blake laughed too, and grabbed onto Ritter to hold himself up.

When they calmed down, a couple of minutes later, they both clambered out of the car to trade places. Darren made a show of taking the longest stride he could to get into the passenger side, and Blake swatted at him as soon as he closed the door.

“Asshole,” Blake bit out around a laugh. A wide grin split his face.

Darren stuck out his tongue.

“You love me,” he said, holding back another laugh of his own.


End file.
